"I conclude you mean to insinuate that the world is saying I put Anthony out of the way."
"Something of that. Oh, people are foolish simpletons at the best. Of course, there's nothing in it; they are sure of that; but, don't you perceive, once let them know that young Anthony's pretensions had not a leg to stand upon, and they'd see there was no mo----in fact, they'd shut up at once," broke off the lawyer, feeling that he might be treading on dangerous ground. "If you have the deed at hand, let it be seen one of these first fine days by some worthy man whose word can be taken."
"And that would stop the tongues you say?"
"Undoubtedly it would. It would be a proof that you, at least, could have no motive for wishing Anthony elsewhere," added the lawyer more boldly.
"Then, listen to my answer, Knivett: NO. I will never show it for any such purpose; never as long as I live. If the world likes to talk, let it talk."
"It does talk," urged the lawyer ruefully.
"It is quite welcome to talk, for me. I am astonished at you, Knivett; you might have known me better than to suggest such a thing. But that you were so valued by my father, and respected by me, I should have knocked you down."
The haughty spirit of the Master of Greylands had been aroused by the insinuation: he spoke coldly, proudly, and resentfully. Mr. Knivett knitted his brow: but he had partly expected this.
"The suggestion was made in friendliness," he said.
"Of course. But it was a mistake. We will forget it, Knivett."